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“You did what?” screamed Ginny. It was summer at the Burrow. Nobody in the household was having a pleasant day. Ginny was having the most trouble.

“Who cares? I quit school, joined the Chudley Cannons, and started a new life. Who knows how my life would be ruined if I didn’t? Don’t you guys realize? My life would be a total waste if I followed in the rest of your footsteps. I want to be different sometime in my life! Why can’t you understand that?” Ron stormed off to his room.

Ginny sat down by the kitchen table. Her head was in her hands, and she was crying. Why was she the only one trying to help Mum and Dad? Bill goes off and works at Gringotts. Couldn’t he just stay here and work locally, while also helping out at home? And Charlie, going off in Romania working with Dragons. Everyday, Mom and Dad worry about him surviving the day. Percy, he just runs off and leaves us for the ministry. Fred and George quit school and work in Diagon Alley, working in a joke shop. At least they stayed somewhat local. And now Ron, their last son, running off, doing something that he is no good at. Quitting school for a career that will never last. Now Ginny. She was the only one left to stay home with them and help out.

This was tearing Ginny up inside. She loved her family, but there was no family left to love her back. This change would never go away. The change of family could never go back t normal. If they did return, which is very unlikely, they would still have the memories. The ones of pain, hut, and grief.

Ginny wouldn’t leave them. She would stay and help them. Maybe even live next door if she had to. Her husband would support the family while she helped at the Burrow. At least she would stay faithful to them.

She now had an extra responsibility. This change of family would never heal. She would write about it, but not let her parents know how it was troubling her. They had enough on their hands, and didn’t need to know about Ginny’s little troubles. She would have to face this one on her own.

He had never thought this would happen so soon, it seemed like it was only yesterday that Lily had told him she was having a baby. James Potter paced the corridor of the hospital, his hands dug deep in his pockets. A baby was going to change everything. He, James Potter, prankster and Marauder was going to be a father. He could not help but feel excited but nervous at the same time.

James smiled to himself, as he recalled the day Lily had told him she was having a baby. She had been acting strangely for days, and James had begun to wonder if she was planning to leave him. The days had grown dark, and he had been doing at lot of work for the Order of the Phoenix. Therefore, he had been overjoyed when she told him they were having a baby. He immediately started doing less work for the Order, so that he could look after his pregnant wife.

That had been eight months ago, and two hours ago Lily had started her contractions. He had brought her to the hospital, she had insisted of going to a near-by Muggle hospital to have the baby, and now he knew his child was being born.

‘Mr. Potter?’

A stern looking mid-wife had popped her head out of the delivery room.

‘You can come in now.’

James felt an explosion of excitement in the pit of his stomach. He dashed into the room. His wife looked peaceful as she cradled a small baby in her arms. She looked so content with herself, and in his opinion she had never looked so beautiful.

‘James,’ she said softly. ‘Come and say “hello” to our little boy.’

He walked over to her side, and she lifted the baby into his arms. James looked into face of the small baby. He was full of wonderment as he held his son. James Potter had never felt such an upsurge of love, and he knew he would be the best father in the world to his child. He did not care that there would be endless sleepless night and a million nappies to change; all he cared about was that he did the best for his family.

This would be his last day here. Strange how he would leave this office with nothing to look back upon on his glory days; he had enjoyed rubbing elbows with the rich and influential. Unfortunately either his rich and influential friends had turned their backs on him, or they were arrested as Death Eaters.

He placed the last of his things inside a box. A box that contained a few trinkets to remind him that he was once here - he was once the Minister of Magic – one of the most powerful man in the Wizard World. Cornelius Fudge regretted the fact that he ignored Harry Potter's claims about the Dark Lord's return; he regretted spending all his time pleasing the elite. Regret was all he had, for he would be leaving this office in disgrace. No power, no name, a nobody.

Everything seemed grey; grey and cold and broken, like those old Muggle black-and-white movies that would crinkle on the screen in the dusty theatres. Not many people liked those movies anymore, because frankly, the grey was depressing. Maybe that was why no one liked it here anymore either. Maybe all the grey had finally gotten to them.

Shop windows, thick with layers of dust and dirt, were shattered by rocks hurtled by careless people, people who knew it was never going to be the same. Old signs swayed on their rusted chains, creaking and groaning about the disorder of the street. Rubbish littered the street corners. It tumbled as the wind blew, making a scratchy, uncomfortable sound against the brick.

Neville could easily recall the times he had been in this place with his gran. He could easily recall the voices of the children admiring the newest broom in the display of Quality Quidditch Supplies. For a moment, as he stood there with his hands in his pockets and his eyes closed, he could almost smell Florean’s many-flavoured, delicious ice-cream, and he could almost hear the soft hoots of the owls inside their cages within Eeylops. The memories came quickly, flooding into his mind like a sweet drug that helped him clear his mind of all the troubles, all the worries …

Somewhere, a stray cat meowed loudly, and Neville opened his eyes. In a cruel rush, the smells and sounds were gone, and all that remained was grey.

Diagon Alley had changed; it had changed, and it would never again be the Diagon Alley that people had grown to love - or at least that was how Neville felt. Ever since Voldemort had returned, no one was safe to do anything anymore. Nothing was going as planned in the war, and nothing had remained the same. It wasn’t just Diagon Alley that was grey; it was everything.

With a sigh and a silent tear that he would never tell anyone about, Neville Disapparated and vanished into the foreboding grey.

Narcissa slowly made her way down the stairs of her cold mansion. Ever since her husband had been taken away, the whole house seemed to have an eerie feel to it. She didn’t feel safe walking around alone.

It wasn’t as though she had much of a choice. Her options were either walking alone, or not walking at all. Maybe if she just kept going, everything would go away. Despite being scared to death every time she heard a creak or a snap, she continued to walk her flight of doom.

As she walked she reminisced on all that had been happening to her in the past few days. Had it really only been that long? It seemed like years since she had seen her handsome husband holding his head up high.

The last time she had seen him, he was being torn from his own home. He was wearing a black cloak as he always did with his collar up to show his self-importance. He had his hair down in a way that reminded Naricissa why he was her prince. Even in times of trouble, he was always holding onto his pride.

In his last few moments at the house he was gallantly fighting his way through the Ministry of Magic folk, but Narcissa knew from watching the battle that he could never win. No one man can beat an army of trained wizards.

As he was finally carried away in magical binding spells and even Muggle chains, Narcissa was positive she saw a tear run down his cheek. Maybe it had only been one, but it was enough to know that he did truly love her. She knew he would find his way back somehow.

She took a few more steps down the stairs while thinking about how he had affected her life. He was a strong man and always willing to fight. He wasn’t afraid of the Dark Lord, but rather used him to gain his own power. It seemed he was willing to risk everything to spare the lives of his family – of Narcissa.

Even his last few days when he knew the Ministry was after him, he made sure the best precautions were taken to save his family. He had created a niche in one of the side walls of the hallway where his wife and son could hide in case of an emergency. It wasn’t completely safe, but he knew the Ministry wouldn’t be looking for them anyway.

Narcissa felt empty as she ended her flight down the stairs. Every moment she thought of her loving husband was a moment of pure sorrow. There was nothing she could do to change what had happened, and she had no control over what would happen in the future. All she could do was grieve, and remind herself of the memories of the past.

As Time Changes

Arthur Weasley left the Ministry of Magic after the watchwizard in the Atrium waved him goodbye. Strangely enough, he didn’t leave via the Floo Network nor did he plan to Apparate. He went out onto the street, oblivious to the fact that he was stared at. He was still dressed in his wizard robes and wore his wizard hat.

Lost

He knew that this day will come, but it was nonetheless a big shock for him. He thrived on work, without his job he was just another wizard in Britain. He liked the feeling of being of use, he liked that his work meant something. First he worked for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and then he was promoted to head the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. He didn’t like that job too much. It was too much stress, but he was there when help was needed.

Mortal Peril

Arthur wandered on, still unaware of the stares directed at him. He crossed the street with the masses at the green light. He wasn’t paying attention where he was going, he just followed his steps. He turned the corner and bumped into a man. The poor soul was threatened by a robber brandishing a knife, demanding for his purse. Arthur looked at the scene wide-eyed, but then came to and stunned the robber with a non-verbal spell. The other man was so confused that he didn’t even notice that something strange happened.

“Thank you very much,” he said gratefully to Arthur and shook his hand. “If there is something I can do for you….”

“If you don’t have a job for me, then I’m afraid there is no such thing,” Arthur said, a sad smile appearing on his face.

“Actually, I need help in my hardware store, if that fits you,” the man answered, a bright smile appearing on his face.

“What are you selling?” Arthur asked out of curiosity, he didn’t think he would be accepted as a shop assistant in a Muggle store.

“I don’t have any experience,” Arthur said, hiding his excitement at the mention of plugs.

“I don’t mind, and you’ll learn it fast enough. You seem to be a decent man. By the way, the name is Potter, Harold Potter. But everybody calls me Harry,” he introduced smiling.

Work

Arthur looked around in the store and nodded to himself. He would enjoy this place and this job surely, he thought. He put on an overall and went behind the counter. The first costumer arrived soon and Arthur was very happy that he was able to help her.

Home

Special thanks goes to the BA chat yesterday, they helped me out a bit with this.

Ron lay awake in his bed, listening to the leaves rustle, the wind blowing, and the cry of Ron Weasley Jr. cry. It had been like that for two weeks. Since Hermione had her baby, the house was different; there was never a peaceful moment and every time he helped, it turned out wrong.

He turned over on the bed, remembering one particular night…

*FLASHBACK*

Ron was on his bed, a book open in his hand, but his eyes weren’t moving. He tried to concentrate but just couldn’t. All the shrieking was really starting to annoy him. It was the day after Hermione had birthed their first child. He was supposed to be getting some sleep for he had a busy day at the Ministry the next day but he couldn’t get any sleep – not with all this racket. Placing the book down, he stood up and walked out of the room and into the baby’s room to see Hermione holding screeching baby. He gently knocked on the door and she turned around, her eyes drooping. He smiled and walked inside.

“Let me, Hermione,” he said.

“But –” she started.

“Don’t worry about me. Put him here,” he held out his arms for the baby. Hermione smiled, handed him over, and planted a kiss on his cheek before leaving. The baby quieted and looked at his father.

Hope this works...

They think she has it for her studies. They think she applied for it, asked for it, spent the entire summer convincing her parents and Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore that she wanted it for that reason alone. She’d had to go down to the Ministry when they granted it to her, allowed it to her. Had to sign papers, and swear and promise that she wouldn’t abuse it. Would be careful when using it that she wouldn’t end up with two of herself in the same room. That she wouldn’t tell anyone about it. Wouldn’t use it for anything other than what they were giving it to her for.

She promised. Oh, how she promised.

She had to be taught how to use it. Had to get used to the sensation, how to time it so that she’d only go back the hour necessary instead of a a day, a month, a year. She was terrified that she was going to end up in Hogwarts of twenty years ago facing Harry’s parents.

But she was smart–and wasn’t that why they were giving it to her in the first place–and she didn’t have any trouble.

And still, they all thought she was using it for her studies. So she could go back and take a more complex, fuller schedule than any other student, let alone one who was only a third year. Seventh Years were taking fewer courses than she was.

Yes, it was true, in a way. She wanted to know everything she possibly could. Understand it all. Magic fascinated her, its creeping tendrils of possibility and promise. You can be different magic teaches. You can have power. You can have beauty. You can have and do and be whatever is is that want. Anything that is imaginable can be done.

A frightening lesson. And captivating.

But that isn’t why she wanted it. She’d lie if you asked her. She lied to herself about it too, most days. But when she didn’t–

She wanted it because there was nothing more that she wanted than to go back in time. Times were changing, she was changing. They all were. Sirius Black was on the loose, Dementors were on the grounds and they were growing up.

The growing up scared her most.

They thought she didn’t notice that they were noticing girls. Girls, but not her. She knew they didn’t see as anything more than a friend, the Brains of their Trio. And, truth be told, she didn’t want to be anything more. She understood the boundaries of it, where she stood. She didn’t want these differences between her and Harry and Ron, making themselves clearer and clearer by the day to anyone with a brain.

She knew that Time was changing her; it was changing them all and she didn’t want it. She fought it. With every rotation of the Time-Turner she fought the changes Nature forced upon her.

Neville glanced around the Great Hall. It was his last Leaving Feast, but an air of perennial worry ruined the show. Half of the students were quiet with anxiety; the other half talked loudly and nervously. The professors were no better.

Neville looked back down at his plate. Hogwarts had been his home for the past seven years, more so than his grandmother’s dark, old-fashioned house. Between the ages of eleven and seventeen, his life had been composed of classes, homework, meals in the Great Hall, and over the holidays, dreaming about school. Here, his talent for plants had been allowed to bloom. Here, he had made his first friends.

Ginny ate quietly beside him. When the Feast ended, the two of them planned to pack and leave for the train station as usual. But instead of getting on the train, Ginny had arranged for a mix-up that would allow them to sneak away and Apparate to a place where they would meet Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Neville was not positive that the others knew they were coming; Ginny had been slightly vague on the subject. It didn’t matter. Neville had made up his mind.

It had been a long, tension-filled year. Every day, the paper brought news of another death, more kidnappings, tales of sinister rites, paranoia in the streets. Neville had been allowed only one visit to St. Mungo’s that year. For the first time, he had asked his grandmother to give him some time alone with his parents.

The vacancy in their eyes made him want to cry, as it always did. The difference this time was that he also wanted to throw things – preferably the most painful curses he knew. He had heard so many stories about his parents as capable Aurors, joyous newlyweds, prefects at school. His mother had even been Head Girl. Neville had only a few fragmented memories of what they had been like before the attack. He had infinitely more of them as they were now, each one virtually identical to all the others.

It was during that visit that Neville made his life-after-school decision. He would find Harry and the others and join them in fighting Voldemort, as he was sure they were doing.

Just because it was right didn’t make it easy. Even as the thought came to mind, so did a speech of Dumbledore’s, right after the Triwizard Tournament had ended – about Cedric, who had “chosen what was right over what was easy”.

Oddly, remembering that confirmed it. Though the real world was dark with peril, he would do his part to ensure that no one else ever ended up like his parents. It was right. It was not easy. But it was his right. More, it was his duty.

“Good bye to our students, and luck go with all of you, especially with our graduates!” The benches scraped on the stone floor, the students stood, and Neville left the Great Hall for the last time.